Had he been more careful he certainly would have had the victory over me.

But the morning was warm, and we had worked for some moments.

My man stopped for a moment in his calm pinioning of my arms, and perhaps raised his hand to brush his face or push back his hair.

At that moment luck came to my aid.

He did not repeat the strange gentle blow at the back of my head--one which I think would have left unconscious a man with a neck less stiff--and as his pressure on my twisted arm relaxed, I suddenly got back my faculties.